An Overnight Consensus
by WaddleBuff
Summary: Solitude and loneliness had been their closest companions. But as the strain of daily life pulls at her from within, Riven seeks for aid even if she is not aware of it. Fortunately, a sympathetic man with a similar past and a pair of gifted hands is willing to help.
1. Didn't Know How Lost I Was

The Exile sat at the bar of the Reflecting Chamber, disconsolate. What in the hell was she doing here?

You could read it in the way she was seated; back hunched, head supported by her arm as her eyes looked straight ahead into the multicolored glasses lining the bar's shelves. As could be deduced from a glance, her day was not as how she had wanted it to be.

Ambient lighting from the runic fixtures above the bar glinted off her bare caramel skin, the usual dark green shoulder-guard and protective sheet left behind in her quarters. Riven was clothed in what she considered her casual wear, wearing the usual swaths of cloth accumulated from her wanderings, the faded purple corset girding her waist the only deviation from the drab, plain hues of the rough cloth. Every trace of combat-readiness was awaiting her return back in her quarters, the only exception being the broken sword resting on the floor next to her stool.

A strand of her white hair stumbled into her line of vision before quickly being put back into place by an exhale of air from her lips.

Riven closed her eyes, once again reflecting on the day that she had trudged through. In truth, nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. Summoners used her on the Fields for their purposes, she interacted coldly with fellow Champions, and she wasted away within the Institute without a single soul acknowledging her presence.

There was, of course, the occasional admirer, but they were quickly dismissed with one of her signature cold glares.

Yes, it was just another day in the life of an exile. Though Summoners had stated warmly that she had become "part of the family" upon her admission into the League, Riven felt no difference in acceptance than she had felt prior to the Institute. She was still an outcast, not part of any overarching social structure prominent amongst the Champions and Summoners within Institute grounds.

Though it is true that nobody particularly hated her or intentionally refused to socialize with her (notwithstanding the Noxians who viewed her as a political abomination), and some even admired her beauty and cold demeanor, Riven still had nobody to really consult with. She was just one of those Champions who would stand in the corners in soirees, the odd one who wouldn't speak to anyone unless spoken to.

Solitude was something of second nature to her; it had embedded itself into her subconscious after those many years of wandering, cast apart from others of her own volition. She didn't mind being alone. But some days, having nobody to acknowledge her existence could be straining.

Riven grimaced. Pulled back to reality by the quiet applause around her commending the ending of a song, she repositioned her arm to take another gulp of Dack Janiels. The four-man Summoner jazz band fired up another piece, livening up the atmosphere within the span of three notes.

Her eyes glanced to the left after she set her almost-empty glass onto the counter. She observed people (and Yordles) lounging and drinking and socializing. Almost none of them were alone. Her pupils darted a bit to the right. At a table, three Summoners were having a poker match, utilizing runes as gambling currency. A bit to the left, and Gragas was discussing Graggy Ice business matters with Ashe, clothed in his usual robe of nothingness. Directly to her right, Ahri sat next to a blond explorer, coaxing him with her seductive charm.

Riven sighed whilst returning her gaze to the drink below her. She was alone.

Alone.

The word rang out within her psyche with a dull twang. It was such a familiar sentiment. It was almost a friend. But tonight, she felt that its presence was too close for comfort. Although she denied it, Riven desperately needed companionship.

A name suddenly arose out of her mind's tangled mess of angst. A name associated to someone who was not really a friend, just an acquaintance. Her brow furrowed. Of all the names, why him?

Recollections of her conversations with the man surfaced as well, the first being a few words exchanged after a successful match. Unlike the times when other Champions attempted to converse with her during similar circumstances, Riven actually returned the favor.

There was just something about him, whether it be his dry sarcasm, intentionally blatant attempts of flirtation, or that ever-present confidence accompanied with the grin curled on his lips, Riven found him to be…interesting.

He was always alone, not really giving anyone else any unwarranted attention. His words were carefully chosen, always sharp. No three words could come out of his mouth without having an edge.

He was an outlaw, a cheat. The type of man that revolted the Exile. Despite this, he was just about the only person in the entire roster of the League whom she had socialized with the most.

Still, all attributes of the man's personality irritated her. He was so blind in his confidence, so utterly annoying. The way his slender, calloused fingers would tip the hat towards her direction whenever she approached, the manner in which they shuffled cards when he would idly stand on a wall with his bearded face veiled by a shadow; Riven despised him.

He was the sort of scum you would find sleeping the streets, using any means necessary to escape from the hands of the just. Someone who did not respect the higher power.

And yet, he was the closest thing she had to a friend.

This fact made her sigh; oh, how far she had fallen.

As if on cue, her sharp ears caught the clicking of footsteps approaching the bar from behind her. Riven's breath caught, but her exterior showed no sign of acknowledgment. She kept her eyes trained on the wooden counter.

The wooden legs of the bar stool next to her scraped against the stone floor as its face became occupied. Her hand tingled, its palm resting atop the broken sword on the floor. A silence ensued, until finally the newcomer's baritone voice spoke, ordering a whiskey.

More silence.

Riven suddenly felt his eyes on her face.

"Hey there, beautiful."

It was him. Definitely him.

Twisted Fate.

She formulated her response carefully, layering it with displeasure and frosting it with an unwelcome tone.

"Fuck off."

The Card Master chuckled.

"Good evening to you too. What're you doin' here?"

Riven finally turned her gaze to look at him. He was dressed in his usual attire, minus the gold-trimmed tailcoat and the hat, his long ebony hair framing the squareness of his face and his intense blue eyes. Riven's eyes instinctively shone with a glare, lips set into a grimace.

"Why do you think?"

"Well," Fate mock-pondered his answer, "sensing from your vibes, I can only deduce that you're pretty fucking pissed."

Riven turned back to resume the staring contest with her alcohol.

"If that is what you sense."

Another chuckle.

"Always the joker."

Twisted Fate took a swill of whiskey before turning his body toward the stage across the room, his elbow resting on the counter behind him. A saxophone wailed a mellow melody, accompanied by the bass of a large cello.

Riven tilted her gaze towards his direction. His eyes were still focused on the stage, that grin planted onto his face. His fingers drummed to the rhythm on the bar counter.

She bit her lip. She never initiated conversation, but Fate had pushed her against a wall she was not aware existed. Maintaining her cold tone, Riven ventured forth to break the silence.

"So why did you come here tonight?"

Fate tilted his head to look at her, allowing the music to substitute the conversation as his eyes locked with hers. Riven maintained the gaze as she awaited a response.

"Companionship," he finally said, the word rolling off his tongue almost as an invitation…

"Don't look at _me_ if you just want a night of meaningless sex."

…which Riven promptly denied.

Fate swiveled around to face the bar again. Raising his hands in mock-defeat, he whistled softly.

"Looks like you got me."

He peered over, flashing his teeth at her.

Riven didn't respond, raising her cup to her lips.

She still felt his eyes on her face, and couldn't help but feel her barriers begin to wane. Though she did not want to acknowledge it, her purpose at the bar was the same as his.

Well, if he was lying about the meaningless sex.

She sighed and closed her eyes, allowing the bitter swirl of alcohol encompass her psyche. It'd be best if she just forgot that Fate was even there.

Fate saw this mental shift; he could read it in the way her nose twitched ever so slightly when her eyes closed. He shook his head in amusement.

Years' of experience attained from card games during private dealings in his past enabled Fate to read the thoughts of people through their facial expressions. But it was not only through this talent that the man knew of Riven's private plight.

He sympathized with her.

Their paths may have been worlds apart, but upon closer inspection, the two of them were not that different.

A self-imposed exile and a pariah. For years, solitude were their friends.

The only difference was that Fate no longer followed this credo.

He finished his drink slowly, watching Riven's face as she meditated, her senses shutting out everything around her. Fate knew that there was no way to get through to her now, so it seemed that the only route of action was to reminisce.

Another contrast between him and the woman seated next to him, memories were the only thing that could soothe his restless soul.

The ice tinkled within his glass, kissing his upper lip. When he lowered the alcohol, Fate was transported back a few years ago, back when things were looking up for him. Back when his friendship with solitude ended.

Fate took a deep breath. The scents of that night returned. _Her _scent returned. He could hear Pentakill onstage, performing one of their first gigs. He could hear the chatter around the Reflection Chamber a considerable number of decibels lower, a result of the lack of Champions and Summoners.

These were the early days. The days when the League had just opened its fateful doors to the world of Valoran.

Opening his eyes again, Fate beheld her with a grin. The fiery maroon locks, the threatening spikes adorning her attire, the piercing green eyes, the fatal, tantalizing lips, the succulent blue skin. Evelynn.

Yes, just as he remembered it, this was where he first met her. This was the first time in a long time that he actually engaged in a casual conversation.

It was a starting point for the man, for he had never felt a passion ignite with such a ferocity as the passion he felt for her. His past was as murky as hers, but unlike him, her heart was not yet broken.

Fate's ears tingled with the memory of her first words to him.

"Why hello there, handsome."

She had sat herself down a minute after he ordered a drink. At first, he was cold to her. He attempted to brush her off, clinging to that comforting solace of loneliness as tightly as he could. However, she wore him down ever so slowly as the evening went on.

But it was one particular action that resulted in his fingers to slip.

Fate sighed pleasantly, recalling the sound of her heels hitting the floor, those same heels walking behind him. He felt her warm breath on his neck, her hands slowly making their way onto his shoulders. Fate remembered how his mind told him to hang on, to stay away, that he would just get hurt again.

Then Evelynn whispered three words into his ear,

"You're so tense…"

It might have been some unknown magic, it might have been the alcohol, it might have been the timing, but for whatever reason, that was when Fate resigned, allowing the woman to caress the stress from his shoulders in the middle of the bar.

What followed was hot, passionate, and intense. Their relationship lasted only a few months, but to this day, people still chatter about how fiery the relationship was between them.

Fate closed his eyes again, leaving the world of the past, feeling Evelynn's soothing hands leave his shoulders.

He sighed again before opening his eyes.

To his surprise, he was standing. More accurately, he was standing behind Riven, who was still engrossed in her meditation. Fate's eyes flashed. He saw himself, hunched over, grasping tightly to that solitude. Looking down at his hands, he saw the blue hue of her skin, the long slenderness of the fingers. In a manner of speaking, the torch was passed down to him.

Fate didn't think; he didn't have to.

In the middle of the bar, people all around him, his hands carefully positioned themselves on her shoulders, and he began to knead.

* * *

_I'm back, bitches!_

_But in all seriousness, here's an attempt at another Mutual Benefits. It'll follow the same story pace, and story structure, so let's see how this goes._

_Remember reviews are there for requests and suggestions._

_Excelsior!_


	2. Until I Found You

Riven giggled.

The night had just ended; drills for the day were past. The sun was slowly lowering itself behind the Ironspike mountains, fires of camp lighting the night.

"Ha! I did it! I knew you'd crack sooner or later."

A young major, adorned with his Noxian armor, sat across from Riven as they shared a drink. Blush was visible on the young woman's cheeks, her white hair loose from any restraint, its tips touching her shoulder blades. She spoke with a rare grin on her face, the forthcoming battles temporarily forgotten.

"Fine. But that's all you're getting."

"Is it?"

His name was Castiel. They had met a week earlier in Noxus during the draft. Both of them were fresh out of the rigorous training of the Noxian Academy; fresh for_ more_ rigorous training in the army. It was rumored that an invasion of Ionia would soon be upon them, but Riven merely dismissed it as what it was-a rumor.

Though she was already drawn to Castiel then, the attraction only continued to blossom after the pair discovered that they were assigned to the same platoon.

Riven took another sip of her ale, keeping eye contact with the her companion. Light emanating from a nearby fire illuminated his young, rugged features. Castiel wasn't much of a hunk, but neither was he lanky or skinny. Stubble dotted his squareish chin, its territory reaching his sideburns. His eyes crinkled whenever he smiled, their amber pupils always gleaming with a childlike quality.

Though he seemed too young to be serving in the army, Riven had discovered that they were the same age a mere night before.

Finishing the weak alcohol with a final gulp, she placed the wooden mug back on the table in front of her.

The pair continued to stare into each other's eyes, knowing grins on their lips as the communication turned silent. Around them, Noxian officers and footsoldiers also lounged, only a select few reviewing graphs and studying laid-out maps of past battles. As far as the eye could see, tents were pitched in straight, graphical formations across the plains outside the walls of Noxus itself. The city-state's imposing stone walls peered over the fresh army with a watchful eye.

A thought occurred to Riven, and she suddenly bit her lip as she stood. A faint electricity kept their gazes connected, a fair amount of lust detectable from their body language.

Walking over to Castiel, Riven bent over and whispered into his ear.

"Let's bunk together tonight."

She awaited his response after standing upright again.

Sitting back, Castiel let out a whistle. He squinted at her, carefully examining her face to see if she was serious.

Oh, she was _dead _serious.

Maintaining his cool composure, Castiel followed Riven's lead and arose from the bench, setting his empty mug beside hers.

"Well…I don't know about _that. _I mean, it definitely doesn't sound like something someone of _your _rank should be doing…"

Riven playfully punched him on the shoulder.

"Oh, shut up. It's your own fault you flunked the Noxian History course. Besides...it's only the first week," she took his hand and began to lead him to her nearby tent, her face so close to his that he could feel her breath on his lips, "Let's have a little fun before things get messy."

Castiel chuckled as his steps echoed hers; Riven's golden pupils the only thing visible in his field of vision.

"Depending on what kind of fun you're talking about, things are _bound _to get messy."

Despite herself, Riven gave him another grin.

* * *

Castiel kissed her again, feeling her hands run along his back.

Their tongues tentatively touched, grasping each other for more contact. Riven's breasts pushed against Castiel's chest, his hands giving them more leeway as he tore at her clothing. She moaned into his mouth as her lower body grinded against his, asking for more.

But as natural and pleasurable this was turning out to be, Castiel could feel an awkward vibe rolling off her body's actions, her limbs still somewhat rigid.

Separating from her lips, Castiel asked the question that had been irritating him since the flaps of the tent closed behind them.

"Rivs…is this your first time?"

Riven's face, red as it already was in the candlelit room, grew crimson as she blushed. Her mouth hung open slightly as she panted, recovering from the kisses exchanged before.

"…second," she replied meekly between intakes of air.

Castiel laughed, separating his partner's hands from his bare back. Still in confusion, Riven could only comply as he sat her down, cross-legged on the floor. She felt embarrassed and exposed, conscious of how much skin she had exposed to the air.

As she heard Castiel position himself behind her, Riven readjusted her tank top, putting one of its straps back into place above her shoulder. She fidgeted, eyeing the discarded garments near the entrance to her temporary home as if she had just realized they were there. Suddenly aware of the fact that she was only dressed in an undershirt that barely covered her skin and her grey panties, Riven's usual unabashed manner had withered away.

Just like that, her limbs turned to stone.

Castiel tsked.

"Rivs…you gotta loosen up. You can't have sex with your muscles all tense."

Riven's cheeks set on fire.

"Gods, Cas, y-you're so blunt…"

"Please Rivs, don't comment on my performance before we've actually started."

She suddenly felt his hands on her back, his palms smoothing against her skin, inching below her tank top, lifting the fabric above her shoulders. If mortification wasn't enough to make her feel insecure, Castiel's sudden touch was.

"Wha-What are you doing?"

"Shhh…"

His fingers clamped gently above her shoulder blades as they came to a stop, Riven's tank top reduced to a wrinkled cloth below her neckline.

Before she could inquire or protest, Castiel began to knead, his fingers pushing down on hidden pressure points and tense muscles, the effect on the rest of Riven's body almost immediate. She gasped, her breath caught in her throat. Within moments the tension was gone, the stress, all of the awkwardness that had plagued her movements.

She shut her eyes as Castiel's hands roamed along the top portion of her body, pleasure and release overcoming any other sensation within her psyche. The rhythmic motion of those skilled fingers made her feel elated…so free…

…by the time she opened her eyes again, Riven was back in the Reflecting Chamber, notes of a clarinet swirling into her hearing. She released a sigh of elation.

It was strange; she never thought about her past, wary not to stumble upon the memory of that fateful last battle on Ionia. Something had triggered her sudden reminisce, and for some reason it remained. Her eyes at half-mast, Riven suddenly released a content moan.

What was that for?

It took her several moments to be conscious of the hands that remained on her shoulders, transcending the barriers of physical existence and mere recollection. The skilled fingers exerted enough pressure to push through the swaths covering her shoulders, eliminating the tension present within her muscles. Much to her surprise, their ministrations were more pleasurable than the movements she recounted during her meditation. Despite having a thick fabric barrier to dampen the potency of the kneading, the hands caressed her with a pleasurable intimacy. A sensitive nerve was suddenly touched upon, another sigh escaping Riven's lips before she could formulate a reaction.

She heard a deep chuckle from behind her.

"I'm glad you're enjoying it."

That was when her eyes widened with horror, suddenly aware of the now-empty stool beside her.

Without thinking, the Exile twisted her upper body violently to her left whilst grabbing ahold of the broken blade patiently waiting beside her stool. She felt her left elbow make contact with an unfortunate set of ribs, prompting her to swivel out of her barstool with her blade a step ahead of her. Giving a rough shove to her target, she slammed him against a nearby wall, positioning her glowing blade directly beneath his neck.

The green, arcane light illuminated Twisted Fate's casual grin, a hint of pain present in his eyes as Riven's left arm exerted pressure to his elbowed ribs. His hands were raised in surrender, fingers fiddling about with an invisible card.

Riven glared at him, pushing her runic blade closer against his neck.

"What the hell were you doing?"

"A favor," Fate immediately answered, awfully nonchalant about the whole ordeal, "and to me, it seemed like you were accepting it."

"I was in the middle of a meditation."

"No excuse for moaning in pleasure."

Riven fought back the blush threatening to blossom on her cheeks.

"You do realize this blade is one flick of my wrist away from slitting your throat, right?"

Fate shrugged, that grin seeming to widen as time progressed.

"You're cold, hun, but I know you wouldn't murder me in front of all these people…"

His eyes turned to his left, where the entire Reflection Chamber was now watching their every move. The jazz band had ceased their music, as did everyone else with their talking.

Riven gritted her teeth and shot a piercing glare into Fate's eyes. He merely winked back.

At that, she withdrew her blade before stomping away. She heard Fate attempt to step away from the wall, and decided to deliver a roundhouse kick behind her, aimed at his chest.

To her surprise, her feet made contact with air, Fate already a step ahead of her. The shock was immediately replaced with annoyance. Riven grimaced as she stomped towards the exit to the Reflection Chamber.

Fate grinned with his hand extended toward the door, eyes following her progress.

"Ladies first."

She replied by giving him a rough shove to the chest.

Upon reaching the exit, the doors were hastily thrown open, her back burning with the gaze of at least a hundred or so people. Taking a turn into the hallway, she heard Fate's voice.

"All right, show's over folks. Back to your drinks and mindless banter."

Riven spat. The nerve of that man. Touching her like that-in a public place, no less.

Her surface emotions expressed themselves in a tangible form, her broken blade regenerating its absent mass. Slowly but surely, the emerald arcane wisps reconstructed the blade's structure. More runic inscriptions appeared upon the newly-formed runestone, glaring menacingly with their owner. Riven's right hand, bare, burned against the blade, devoid of its usual protection of a large gauntlet.

She felt the sizzling of her palm, the harmful exposure to the raw power of enchanted runestone burning her skin.

She felt the weight of her blade increase with every step she took, until its fully-regenerated tip finally began dragging on the stone floor.

She didn't pay any mind; anger dampened the pain and burden.

She concentrated straight ahead of her, the labyrinth of rune-lit halls dedicated to memory. Making another turn, her ears caught the sound of clicking footsteps. She ignored them until they were only a pace away from her back.

Click.

_Click._

_**Click**__._

The unmistakable sound of a footstep was directly behind her.

Emulating the maneuver executed a few minutes before, Riven spun around with a yell, arms extended with the runic emblems of her blade extending before her. A blinding flash of green burst forth from the blade's edge, a plane of translucent arcane energy spreading out from its point of origin. The emerald waves sliced through the air to find its target, only to be met with the walls of the dimly-lit halls.

Riven squinted, her chest still heaving from the supple amount of ki energy exerted from the thrust of her blade. She grimaced, glaring at the absence of her target. A chuckle resounded in the hall, its point of origin behind Riven's back.

She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes in resignation.

"You know, I'm pretty accustomed to at least two attempts at my life in one night."

Riven turned around, hand still clenching her blade, the emerald flame began to simmer on its runic inscriptions. Twisted Fate had his leg propped up on the wall, a card exchanged between his fingers. He was looking at her with those cerulean eyes, silently issuing an invitation.

"I'm not in the mood," Riven spat, her teeth barely separating for her words to escape.

"When are you ever?"

Riven wouldn't have it. Every syllable passing from Fate's lips made a beeline towards her sensitive composure.

What she didn't recognize were the true emotions underlying her anger. Granted, it had been almost a decade since these reactions had surfaced within her psyche, the last time being a particular night during her first year in the Noxian legion.

Beneath the snarl, a blush bubbled: Riven was flustered.

Had it not been for the unfamiliarity of it, the alien sensation of having such a reaction to a man's touch, Riven would have acknowledged its presence without any adverse proceedings. But unfortunately for both parties, strange stirrings after several years of self-exile could only result in one reaction: violence.

"One more word, and I swear I _will _kill you," Riven snarled, waves of wispy green rolling off of her black blade, its quantity almost engulfing her arm in its glow.

Fate merely chuckled again, closing his eyes.

Always one step ahead of the game, the Card Master recognized the inner conflict within the woman before her. Of course, it amused him. In his eyes, she was a mere child lashing out in embarrassment after a boy had kissed her on the cheek.

Still, the sympathy remained. But other than pity, Fate felt an undying desire to help her see what he could see. All those years ago, Evelynn had opened his eyes to a new world. Though his friends still numbered as few, he saw passions as a necessity, desires as a stipulation of life. His heart had hardened from an entire life of struggle and running. In Riven's eyes, he could see her heart fragile and defensive with the atrocities of combat, her mind still haunted by the area between war and murder.

Yet, the tinder of passion was still there, and much to Fate's delight, he had lit a spark.

Opening his eyes once more, Fate took a step forward, ceasing the incessant motions of his fingers. He looked at Riven straight in the eye, their pupils of cerulean and amber reflecting off each other.

Fate spoke, the grin absent from his lips.

"You talk about killing me, and yet you're unable to do so," he challenged, the grin returning, "Definitely says something about your strength."

Riven snapped, her throat bellowing with a yell. Arcing her blade forward, she sent a wind slash straight ahead of her, which Fate nimbly dodged with a sidestep. Quick on her feet, Riven sent another emerald shockwave, only to have the attack canceled out with the delivery of a magically-enhanced card. She grunted, both hands on the hilt of her blade. Fate laughed.

"Is that all you've got? At this rate, you'll die of exhaustion before you can land a hit on me."

Another battle cry, the reaction time for the attack considerably lessened. Slashing her blade horizontally, Riven shot forth another wind slash, its edges singeing the walls on either side. Fate responded swiftly, jumping into the air whilst rolling above the green shockwave. His back barely escaped from the runic energy, the tips of his hair not fortunate enough to have the same fate.

In the midst of evading Riven's assault midair, Fate counterattacked with three cards withdrawn from his pockets, flinging them at his adversary's face. Predicting the attack, Riven blocked the projectiles with the flat of her blade. The cards floated harmlessly to the floor, their enchantments spent. A split second later, Riven gave another cry, sending three violent arcane slashes in succession.

Nimbly dodging them whilst flinging enchanted cards from his pockets, Fate's eyes widened when he lost his balance as the ground beneath him shook. It didn't take long for the card master to connect the rumblings to their point of origin; Riven had begun to leap high into the air, smashing her broken blade down onto stone floor with every landing. In between leaps, Riven did not cease her unrelenting wind slashes, deadly green translucent blades hurdling towards Fate in droves.

Surprise from Riven's new form of assault ebbed away from Fate's psyche in a matter of milliseconds. Rolling away from each wind slash aimed at his direction, Fate timed his movements carefully. He stood-or, more appropriately, crouched-his ground against every impact Riven made with her sword, struggling to maintain balance. She approached closer and closer with each leap, her fierce eyes focused on her target. Fate remained adamant, barely attempting to counterattack as her blade's edge inched nearer every second.

Suddenly, Riven halted her progress, her breaths filtering through her gritted teeth. A silence ensued, glares exchanged with glares.

"_Raaah!_"

Finally, Riven's legs propelled her upward, arms arcing her blade behind her head, poised to pummel Fate's crouched figure directly beneath her. Fate's composure remained steady; and so did his fingers as they twirled a single enchanted card behind his back, the runic emblem on its face glowing a golden yellow.

Riven's sword followed the momentum of her arms as she descended upon Fate's head. Her lips agape from her yell, her white hair bristling, the Exile exerted all of her energy into this last swing, her entire blade engulfed with a blinding emerald blaze.

At the last second, his forehead a hair away from being spliced by the flaming blade, Fate sprung to his feet, nimbly dodging the weapon intending to slash him lengthwise. Turning round mid-leap, his nose nearly touched the blade as his momentum propelled him beneath Riven's body. Riven could only follow the man's progress, her blade's weight not allowing her to alter course with the ground.

Her eyes widened at the sight of the gold enchanted card between two of Fate's fingers, aimed at her back. She finally lands, her blade causing the ground to rumble. Before she could react, Riven could only watch helplessly as the yellow card flew from Fate's hand towards her.

_Pchnk!_

The card made contact with her neck, a cloud of yellow charmed dust instantly enveloping her body, burrowing itself into her muscles. Just like that, Riven couldn't move; she was stunned. Only her eyes could move, her pupils following the card thrown at her as it lilted to the ground in lazy dips.

Simultaneously, Fate hit the ground.

Recovering from his fall with a grunt, Fate supported himself up with an arm. His eyes were met with the rigid form of Riven, her limbs quivering, struggling against invisible restraints. He beamed at his handwork.

Using the momentum of his legs to reassert himself, Fate got back on his feet. He strutted over to Riven's frozen figure, another card extracted from his pocket absentmindedly. His eyes assessed the scene around him, the walls charred with the dodged wind slashes, stone floor cracked in large circumferences; a result of the Exile's powerful assault.

Taking a glance over his shoulder, Fate caught the purple of a Summoner's robe round the corner. He grinned. Eyes shifting upward, he saw the green of regenerative magic encompass the stonework affected by their battle. Within seconds, the charred walls and the cracked floor were mended, reasserted to their original state. Of course the Institute was watching. Not only that, he was sure they would have intervened if his life was truly in danger. Tussles not dissimilar to this one occurred every now and then, Summoners always watching vigilantly on the sidelines just in case.

It ensured the security of the environment within the League, but to Fate, it was just an annoyance.

Taking the final step behind Riven, Fate chuckled. He leaned in close, the edge of his beard making contact with her cheek. Riven's eyes peered at him with a desperate urgency, her limbs still quivering from effort. Simultaneously, the heavy runestone blade in her grasp slowly began to degenerate, decreasing to its original, true length.

"Heh," Fate leaned in closer, his baritone voice a whisper, "looks like I win."

To his surprise, Riven's leg shifted, her heel barely missing his toes. His laughed, taking a step back.

"But I have to say, that strength of yours is almost scary…" he raised the card in his hand, its plain maroon face suddenly flashing yellow, "…unfortunately for you, I can't be having you demonstrating this strength for now."

Riven's mind panicked. What was he intending? She struggled more fervently, the quivering of her body increasing in its urgency. Suddenly she stopped completely. Even her eyes ceased their movement.

Behind her, a card lilted to the floor, small particles of yellow trailing behind it.

The panic within her psyche triplicated. She couldn't move at all; Riven was completely stunned.

"You should feel honored, miss. You're the first person I've been forced to stun _twice_."

Once again his footsteps approached her from behind, and the panic mixed with worry. Never had she felt so vulnerable. She was aware of his other capabilities, including teleportation. What was this man intending to do with her?

As if able to read her mind, Fate said, "There's no need to worry. I'm only here to help…"

"_Help with what?!_" Riven screamed silently.

By now, the anger that had coated the surface of her flusteration and embarrassment ebbed away. Blush was visible on her cheeks.

Nothing was uttered for several moments as Fate cracked his knuckles, positioning himself behind Riven with adequate leeway between them. He proceeded to raise his arms, hands poised over her shoulders. His fingers loosened themselves, his thumbs prepared to ease Riven's muscles of their tensions. Riven still struggled against the unknown emotions plaguing her, and the arcane restraints constricting her movement.

Fate lowered his hands, prepared to emulate the massaging that had occurred in the Reflection Chamber. Contrary to Riven's suspicions, he truly did not have any ulterior motives (despite several past occurrences when he did possess these motives during similar situations). He suddenly hesitated, his fingers retracting. Fate's eyes squinted, peering at something unseen. He caught a glint of something, causing his actions to halt.

His eyes flashed as rubies, granting his vision clairvoyance. He looked at the corners of the hall, catching sight of vision wards placed on each one; the Summoners were watching. His eyes momentarily glanced at the woman in front of him, her tense shoulders beckoning for his touch.

He would have to resume this issue elsewhere.

Shaking his head, Fate drew several enchanted cards from his pocket.

_Flick! Bzzsht. Flick! Bzzsht. Flick! Bzzht. Flick! Bzzht._

Four vision wards toppled, dead, a card accompanying each carcass. Fate sighed, satisfied.

Just a precaution.

The red from Fate's eyes ebbed away. Then, he placed his hands on Riven's wooden shoulders. Below their feet, the red returned, spiraling into a circular formation resembling a fan of cards.

"Let's go somewhere more comfortable," Fate whispered, his hands giving Riven's shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

If Riven could, she would have shut her eyes tight. A twinge of fear slipped into her mind.

A second later, they vanished. The hall breathed silence, vacant.


	3. Like a Virgin

The crimson shroud of mist slowly settled, its delicate arcane chatter ebbing away with it. Gradually, the Institute hall traded its stone walls that spoke of functionality with wallpapered faces that whispered aestheticism.

Riven's deadlocked eyes digested her new surroundings; from one glance, she deduced that she was standing in Fate's Institute-issued quarters.

To her surprise, the room's décor was copious, if not extravagant. The standard large iron-paned windows were clothed with rich, red velvet drapes, light from the setting sun filtered through a handmade curtain. A chandelier fixture hung from above, strategically placed to provide light for the entire apartment minus the bathroom.

The bed directly to Riven's right was large, obviously not meant for a single person to sleep in. The bed itself was carved with a carpenter's skilled hands from the scarce wood found in the Mimbledon forests of Freljord, intricate designs of (somewhat ironically, considering the situation) naked lovers locked in passionate embraces etched onto its mahogany faces. The sheets were satin, their maroon hue somewhat darker than the red occupying the drapes on the window.

A nightstand embedded with a mirror stood beside the bed, its surface littered with trinkets, mostly jewelry (most likely the possessions of women Fate had made acquaintance with over his stay in the Institute). The floor was adorned with an assortment of fine carpets, each one from different points of origin. The only other furniture in the room was the large wardrobe a few feet from the foot of the bed, and a small table, its surface occupied by a cylindrical vase housing a tulip.

Unsurprisingly, nearly every surface in the bedroom had cards scattered about them. It was as if the furniture produced the sharp, thin paper products, spewing it out to land hither thither. The floor had several of them lying face up or face down, the nightstand had tufts and small decks of them tangled amongst the jewelry. Even the bed was occupied with a few cards, some of them hiding within the mounds of satin near the pillows.

Riven was unable to take it all in, although she was able to take note of Fate's hat that hung on a stand directly in front of her. Her mind was a mess. In technical terms, she was a victim of kidnapping. The severity of the situation merely greatened when she realized that she had been whisked away to Fate's bedroom.

"Welcome to my humble abode," Fate said, his breath warm against the nave of her neck.

Riven merely shivered in response (or rather, she would have if she was able to).

"Now that we've made ourselves comfortable," Fate continued, tossing the vest restraining his shoulders onto a coatrack next to the doorway "let's begin."

Those two words made Riven's heart drop. She braced herself for the feared unknown.

Fate's hands gently laid themselves on her shoulders, fingers adjusting themselves for what was to come. His thumbs provided a firm clamp behind the width of her shoulders.

Riven's heart rebounded from its freefall, beginning to hammer with anxiety. Fate's touch-or rather, his assumed admonition for other actions-sent more warning signals to her instinctual sense of impending danger.

Then, Fate began to knead again. His fingers worked in earnest, pushing through the layers of cloth that were still clinging to Riven's shoulders.

All at once, Riven suddenly relaxed. Her heart rate gradually decreased as Fate's massage continued. The warning signals continued broadcasting within her mind, but the dissipating tension of her muscles weakened their strength. Riven sighed, the sound from her lips almost a shudder. Merely two minutes or so had passed, and already Riven could feel that elated sensation she had felt in that tent all those years ago. Her defenses were worn down by the five-minute mark, and the Exile merely allowed Fate to continue.

Noticing Riven's quick compliance, he abruptly stopped, removing his hands from her body. Riven did not notice the absence of Fate's hands until several seconds later, the pleasure of his caress making her lose sense of time. She wanted more.

Of course, the situation once again made itself clear to her, and Riven hardened. She merely had to look at the bed beside her and remember that Fate was the one touching her to rebuild her defenses.

However, at this point, those defenses were flimsy; a wooden barricade compared to the layered concrete fortress she had donned only an hour or two prior. She was close to coming into terms with her want, which was quickly turning into her need.

Fate cracked his knuckles, flexing his fingers for another assault. He had intended for the session to be a tease, for he knew his abilities could pleasure this woman tenfold the amount he had demonstrated to her.

He eyed the back of Riven's head, his eyes drifting down from the Exile's tied white hair to her exposed neck, analyzing the clothing concealing her shoulders. Fortunately, the cloth cut itself short a few inches down her arm, making it easy for Fate's next move.

Taking once last cursory glance at Riven's back whilst cricking his neck, his gaze wandered to her rump, its curvature peaking from beneath the cloth. Further downwards, he admired the smoothness of the Exile's bare legs, the caramel skin reflecting the light of his chandelier.

A few scars graced the flawlessness of her legs, but their presence merely made Fate want to explore her body in search for more. In his mind's eye, he envision his nose pressed against that smoothness, the skin's scent wafting into his nostrils as a welcome guest, the feeling of her body writhing at his intimate touch, maybe even having its sweet taste on the tip of his tou-

Fate shut his eyes, shaking the thoughts from his mind.

He hadn't brought her here for his pleasure. He had brought her here for hers.

Opening his eyes again, the Card Master sighed. This was all out of character for him. The usual Twisted Fate, the infamous criminal, the scoundrel, would not have felt such sympathy towards this woman. Whenever he had used these skills he had learned, it was usually to gain a one-night stand. The fact that no such intentions were

A face suddenly flashed before his mind's eye, a smile curled on her blue lips.

Fate sighed again at the memory of Evelynn. He needed to pay her back for helping him all those years ago. Little did he know this was the sole reason of his actions. His conscience, something the man had ignored since childhood, required reconciliation for the Widowmaker's aid. Throughout their relationship, Fate never really had the chance to thank her. And now that guilt was beginning to knock on his door.

He swallowed hard at the realization of this fact; the fact that he had basically kidnapped this woman to settle an internal struggle. At the heart of his supposed acts of kindness, Fate still managed to be selfish.

However, it was didn't matter. As soon as it had come, the realization fled to hide within the dark recesses of his mind alongside the guilt that was still waiting patiently for acknowledgement.

Suddenly aware of the prolonged pause in his actions, Fate brought his hands up to Riven's shoulders once more, fingers taking a firm hold of the fabric concealing her shoulders. Another hesitant pause occurred before he slowly began to slide it off. The cloth stopped its progress a few inches down her arms, still managing to stay aloft.

The sensation of the protective coarseness sliding against her skin made Riven gasp as her shoulders were bared. However, it took less than a few seconds later for the shock to leave her system as Fate's smooth fingers found themselves on her skin.

As Fate resumed his kneading, he found himself surprised at the smoothness of Riven's skin, its flawlessness enticing him for more contact. The sagging cloth struggling to cling to Riven's shoulders revealed the top edges of gauze wrap embracing her midsection, drawing Fate's attention as a magnet to a shard of steel. All at once, Fate felt a small, growing fire alight in his heart, fueled by the tinder of pent-up lust.

He proceeded with his ministrations, Riven's body clay beneath his touch.

Suddenly, Fate heard something pass through her lips: a moan.

He grinned, and took a glance at a nearby clock. His massage continued, Riven's body softening with each passing second. The air exhaled through Fate's nostrils grew in quantity as his heart rate also increased. The sight of Riven's skin, its silkiness, it was so much better than he imagined.

The grin on his lips suddenly dissipated as he felt something dormant begin to stir in his groin; arousal had suddenly made its entrance. A bead of sweat rolled down Fate's neck, every millimeter of its progress felt. He couldn't help himself as his libido suddenly began to awaken, wandering eyes unbridled. Still, self-control asserted power, halting-or rather, slowed-the snowball of desire beginning to rapidly roll down the slope of Fate's psyche. He averted his gaze from Riven's tantalizing skin, lest his hands would join his eyes in their bouts of wandering.

He needed to think about something else. Something that _didn't _involve Riven's surprisingly silky skin, the way her hair smelled of vanilla, the sweet whimper of a moan induced with every touch his fingers pressed into her skin…

Arousal peeked its head again above Fate's defenses.

Fate's eyes slowly drifted back, admiring the flawless curvature of Riven's back, how the nave of her neck smoothly coupled with her spine, the small ridge curving in a smooth arc hidden by the thin gauze wrap that could easily be torn open with the right fingers…

Fate suddenly stopped, his mind losing itself in reminisces as a last resort. He found himself in the same bedroom, but at the same time, it wasn't. It lacked the lavish décor, all the trinkets of several women that had vent their passion with him during nights of carnal satisfaction.

This was when he had just started to come out of shell of voluntary solitude.

Fate allowed the nostalgia to sweep him away, fogging over his consciousness of the present day. Looking around, he found himself, a few years younger, kneeling on the bed behind _her._

Evelynn had her eyes closed, head slightly tilted back, that succulent smirk curled on her lips. Fate was tentatively kneading on her shoulders, his movements lacking the finesse and experience he possessed in the current day.

"Mmmm, that's it hun…just a little more pressure to your left…" Evelynn murmured, providing tips to guide her pupil.

"Like this?" Fate said quietly, attempting to put her words into fruition.

In response, the Widowmaker moaned a hot, sultry moan. Fate gulped, but his countenance remained steady, concentration the utmost priority. It was the third time Evelynn had visited his quarters, and the first time they were fully clothed on his bed.

Fate, being the man that he was, had requested a favor from his new lover after the second night: he wanted her to teach him how to deliver proper massages. Of course, he did not reveal the ulterior motives for these…lessons, but Evelynn, aware of these motives or not, agreed with one of her dangerous grins.

Her fiery hair brushed against his chin as Fate continued, his nose assaulted by the intense aroma of sweet, dead roses.

"You're getting better at this…"

"I'm a quick learner," Fate replied, his husky voice almost a whisper.

He suddenly felt Evelynn's hand over his, ceasing his movements. Her head tilted back, her eyes meeting his.

"I think it's time we learn how to do a full-body, tiger."

Fate tried to return the grin on her lips, and replied,

"Yes, ma'am."

Then, all at once, he was once again brought back to reality by the voice of another woman.

Fate's fog of nostalgia was swept away from his eyes, his pupils focusing themselves on the head of white hair in front of him, the smell of dead roses replaced with the scent of faint vanilla.

He found that his arousal had been dampened. Little did he know that during this period of time, someone else in his bedroom was being assaulted by that carnal force.

The voice that had tore him from the frequently-visited world of the past moaned, jumbled sound waves formulating into words once they reached his ears.

"Once this godsdamned magic of yours wears off…" Riven began, only to have another moan from her throat interrupt her weak voice, "…I swear I'm going to finish what I started."

Fate didn't respond, but continued. He could tell that the Exile still had her eyes closed, and that her flimsy defenses were finally giving in. A sense of success spread through his psyche, especially after his eyes were met with the sight of Riven's fists clenching and unclenching, her head idly nodding. Satisfaction took hold of his being, and Fate felt fulfilled.

Taking another glance at the clock, he found that they had been standing together for more than an hour.

This realization made him aware of his weary feet, tired of supporting his weight. It was about time to put the other skills Evelynn had taught him into action.

Finally, his ministrations halted, and he chuckled.

"It's funny, but I don't recall people being able to talk after being stunned with an enchantment."

Riven's eyes shot open. Her gaze frantically moved freely, her hands brought up in front of her eyes: her fingers moved without restraint. Her pupils quivered in shock and a significant amount of horror; how long had she been free from his arcane manacles?

As if able to read her mind, Fate continued,

"The spell wore off over half an hour ago."

* * *

_Blimey, I'm really lagging hardcore._

_I apologize once again for the wait, especially those of you out there awaiting my corrections and edits for _your _work. (Seriously, the guilt is bearing down on me heavier than you can imagine)_

_Anyway, I am somewhat pleased and somewhat distressed to announce that I have arrived in my new boarding school. Which also brings about some good news, and unfortunately, bad news._

_Good news, I'll have more time to focus on studies and writing here, in the middle of the Sonoma County forest. Bad news, internet connection is extremely limited, which sort of hinders the frequency of my updates._

_But fret not, dear readers, for I will do anything in my power to make sure these words reach your lovely, lovely eyes. Oh, those tantalizingly, hypnotic eyes, filled with the lust and curiosity of a young redwood sapling. Or a monkey or whatever._

_Now I hope this chapter lived up to your expectations. As you can probably tell by now, this whole story is gonna be one big sexual flashback frenzy, though those trips down memory lane will be considerably less in number when things get...you know._

_Before I leave, I have one question for y'all: Which story do you want to see updated next?_

_Personally, I want to finish this one as quickly as possible because of this _next _work that I have, which, to be quite honest, is going to be the smutorama I've always wanted to write. But being the artisan that I am, I do not want to reveal any details to you, no matter how dear any of you readers are to me._

_..._

_...oh fine, I'll let you in on _one _thing: the name._

_You ready? Good. This new masterpiece that I have planned for all of you to enjoy shall be christened,_

_"The Recollections of a Playboy"_

_:D Well? Whaddya think? It's not really set in stone, but it's what it'll most likely be called._

_ But I'm getting off-topic. _

_So. Thank you all again for keeping up with this account of a loner about to get laid with another loner. I apologize for this extensive author's note, and I commend you who actually read the whole thing. And for those who are lazy:_

**_TL;DR_** _I'm so like, sorry for being late and like, stuff. So like, what story do you want to see updated? Also, if like I finish this one, I can work on like, a new story that has like, a _lot _of smut, 'kay. _

_I do hope that you all stay for the fireworks, which will be provided free of charge with park admission._

_Excelsior!_


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